Don't
by Darksknight
Summary: "Don't you miss her?" He thinks about it. "There's no reason to." Ichigo said, and in that instant he began to wonder just when lies came to feel welcome and familiar on his tongue.


Staged back in the earlier arcs, before Xcution- waaaaaaay back before all this crazy Quincy stuff comes into play.

**Don't**

* * *

It's a load of bull- all of it. The whole conversation never should have turned to her. One minute they were talking about the future and then Keigo was bothering him about… about her. He's a lost puppy, that boy, bringing up a past master in hopes one day she'll come back and toss him a bone. Or maybe he was hoping _he _could toss _her_ a bone, or something else sick and twisted. Ichigo liked to think that was the case; something wrong and gross was going on in Keigo's mind, that's why he brought her up.

He answered everything calmly, and reasonably.

Everything.

"Don't you miss her?"

Ichigo thought, then, that Keigo must have missed her. That was it. Nothing disgusting; he really did just miss the woman. The way he was looking away- face set in stone like he was serious for once. The funny puppy-like expression he always wore had vanished and Ichigo really didn't like it; it made the teen look old, just like Ichigo himself.

"There's no reason to." Ichigo said, and in that instant he began to wonder just when lies came to feel welcome and familiar on his tongue.

When Keigo looked at him funny Ichigo turned his head away so he wouldn't have to stare back into Keigo's eyes- which somehow looked betrayed. And damn it, it was supposed to be a stupid discussion about plans for the future- not some deep serious conversation about things better left unsaid. Ichigo would have liked nothing more than for Keigo to go back to looking at him in a stupid sense of bewilderment, like usual, but instead a tense silence built up between them.

Ichigo looked back over at Keigo in hopes of goading the other teen into saying or doing something stupid, but the way Keigo glared at Ichigo stopped him in his tracks.

_I know you're lying._ That was what the look said- screamed- loud and clear, and for some reason, coming from Keigo the whole thing made him feel just a little bit worse than usual. _You're a bastard to lie about something like this, too. _

But neither or them said anything, and after a few minutes of the intense still Keigo sighed and looked back up at the sky. "Yeah," He said. "I don't know where I want to go to college either."

Keigo looked up at Ichigo one more time before getting up to leave for classes, and it was then that his eyes took up a look built on determination.

_I _will_ make you talk about her. I won't let you forget. _

Ichigo felt sort of sick when he read the look, but despite that answered with a glare of his own. _Don't. Just don't. _

But Ichigo wasn't lucky enough to avoid the topic. He is reminded of his loss each time his group of friends shoot up out of their chairs in class, spouting excuses as to why they have to be excused. He used to be the one saying he had to suddenly go to the bathroom first, and she was right beside him.

Now neither of them stand to leave- he because he can't, and she because she can't, even though he wants to and he's sure that maybe somewhere deep, deep in her heart she wants to, too.

He clenched his fists in his lap as Orihime and Chad ran out together, Uyruu right behind them. Dear God he wanted to go, but when they came back and all looked over at him to see if he was jealous, he didn't meet their eyes. He stared up at the board like it was the most interesting thing in the entire world and pretended he couldn't feel the pity Inoue had for him, heavy on his back.

He did try to be gentle with his glance. But he knew she could read the word in his stare. _Please. Don't._

It gets worse, too. The rain was a bother. The rain had always been a pain in the ass- filling the air with too much moister, water ruining his clothes and hair, the awful muddy mess that followed the rain's arrival. He didn't understand how anyone could enjoy the rain. If you didn't live in the desert than there was nothing good about its arrival, he thought.

He hates it more than ever now, though he won't admit it even to himself. He firmly believes he hates it because it makes everyone around him restless. Certainly not because it reminded him of her.

With everything going on it would stand to reason that there wouldn't be more problems centered around a certain woman's- no, girl's- disappearance. She's all tied up with his powers, though, and so even when he gets into fights he can't help but think of her- think of the way she'd fight and dance with a sword of snow. Everyone in the Soul Society said that her older brother had the most lovely zanpaktö of all- but Ichigo thought that was a lie. Even if he hadn't known her, he would have said her's was beautiful. More beautiful than anyone else's ever could be.

He hates the rain.

But he finds a sad sort of heart-ache comes with ice and with snow.

That heartache wouldn't leave. It never did. It just got worse and worse and worse. He hated how his sisters stared at the rings around his eyes on the nights he couldn't sleep. Most nights, really. And he hated- _hated_- how his father would stare at him with soft sad eyes- like he knew.

Every time Ichigo caught the look he's shrug his shoulders like he could push it off with force, he'd catch his father's eye and put as much fire into his unspoken word as he could. _Don't._

His father knows, somehow. He's not sure how- at one point in his life, Ichigo thought the man was a moron. The winter war had brought his father's true character to light, yes, but Ichigo was still baffled that the man would know what was keeping him up at night.

Well, he had been, up until Karin had given the old man's secret away.

"You talk in your sleep, you know."

He stared at her for a long, long time when she said that. He'd never thought- never had the vaguest sort of idea- that he would give everything away while he was resting. Had he really been betraying himself while he slept?

"What?"

Karin shrugged. "Most of the time I don't hear you- only when I get up in the middle of the night for water or something. Dad's room is closest to you, so he probably hears you all the time."

He pretended to be aloof- like he didn't care- like it didn't matter. "What do I say?"

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, still chewing on a Pocky while she flipped through TV channels. She's not very interested in the topic, which is good, but it's going to make pressing for answers hard if he doesn't want her to get suspicious. "Dunno. Different things."

"Like what?"

She didn't even look at him; her eyes had settled on a commercial for sport shoes. "Stuff about hollows or something."

For a moment he had been relieved; hollows were all? That was fine by him. But then Karin added on another sentence, almost as though it was an afterthought.

"Sometimes you're talking to some girl. Asking her to make the rain stop or something." His sister didn't think much of it, clearly, as she tilted her head back to stare at him. "It's kind of weird that you have dreams about super heroes when you're almost in college. Even Yuzu doesn't dream about magical girls who can change the weather."

He'd probably answered with some half-hearted quip, he wasn't sure. But suddenly it all made sense. Maybe he'd said her name once in his sleep, maybe his father had put the pieces of the puzzle together from the clues Ichigo's mouth left out in the open night air. Maybe he just knew.

The dreams always start out normal enough, anyway. He's usually at home, though sometimes he'll be in school or somewhere in town. The ones that start of at home he's frantically searching for something. He doesn't exactly know _what_ he's looking for, he just knows he has to find it. He starts in the main room and the kitchen, and then he works his way up the stairs. It's not in his father's room, or in the girl's room, or in the bathroom. When he gets to his room he always slows the search. He looks under the bed, and it's empty. He looks around his desk, but it's not there. He looks on the dresser, in the dresser, around the dresser, but he knows that's not where he'll find it.

So, finally, he'll look in the closet.

And it's not there either.

There's always just an empty bed, some roughly folded pajamas, and a smell close to vanilla and peach. Usually, then, he would wake up. But then, the dreams did change.

He stared into the closet. Carefully, Ichigo bent at the waist, trembling fingers picking up the plaid sleepwear left on the bed. He lifted them up before his face, badly holding the fabric, as if he was afraid that if he clutched too tightly it would tear. He just stared and stared and stared at the clothes, like he was willing her to appear back in them.

But she didn't. And she wouldn't.

So he dropped them back into the closet, closed the door, and then for a moment just stood in the center of his dimly lit room. He didn't cry- no- he just hitched an odd breath like he'd been punched in the stomach. It continued like that, he'd breath oddly, like a fish on the bay, trying to suck in oxygen but he couldn't.

He fell to his knees, hard, pain flaring up through his limbs in licks of dull orange fire. He tried to breath in, breath out, but breathe wouldn't come. And then, suddenly, there were two tiny palms on his shoulders- a body at his back.

"Oh, Ichigo." She breathed in his ear- and god, the hot puff of air feels so real. "I'm so sorry."

And just like that he can breathe again. The air was sweet, crisp, cold. But her body was warm, flush against his, as she hugged him from behind. She rested her head on his shoulder, cheek pressed into his neck, and put her arms around him.

"I've missed you." She whispered.

He wanted to reply. But as soon as he opened his mouth the dream was gone- shattering around him in a rain of frosted glass. He jerked up in bed, eyes wide, lump in his throat.

"R-"

One sound. But he didn't let the rest of her name get past his lips.

He read once, that longing was the feeling of someone who could never go home again. He ran that past Urahara once, and both the candy man and his feline friend nodded, looking away- at the time he hadn't known why.

But even with that on his mind, he was sure that the statement was wrong. You can make home around you, where ever you go. Longing, he thought, was something else entirely. Longing was missing someone, knowing you could never, never, see them again.

He'd known it before. When his mother was gone, he'd known the feeling. But there was something different about death and just not ever being able to see someone again. (Even if they could see you.)

Orihime likes to babble about stuff like that. She's such a nice girl, really, and she has nothing but the best intentions at heart. But she pulls everyone into these conversations at lunch, even Tatsuki will really stop to think about it. And Chad will actually talk about it.

"I think that once you meet your soulmate," She pinks and makes a point out of not looking at Ichigo, "You're always connected to them. Even if you never see them again, you're always attached. Like with the red ribbon of fate, but once you meet them, you can feel it there, you know?"

"Sounds painful if they leave." Tatsuki grunted.

"Yeah." Chad replied.

Ishida looks over at Ichigo. He mouths, "_Should I change the topic?_" Because he thinks he knows Ichigo is thinking of her.

Ichigo _is_ thinking of her, but he doesn't want Ishida to know that, so shakes his head and quickly mouths, "_Don't._" Because then they'll all know.

And then it happened.

One night, all the days of loneliness looked like they would be far, far behind for a split second.

She was back.

He couldn't see her, but there- on the end of the bed- he could see something press into the covers before he hears a very quiet thump on the carpet.

He pretended to be asleep, heart jumping in his chest.

Very quietly, something- someone- knelt down next to his bed. He could smell the vanilla and peach, he could hear the small breaths she was taking. Something smooth and soft slid over his hair; a hand, stirring through his messy orange while he pretended he was out.

"Wake up you fool." She whispered. She was so quiet that he knew she didn't want him to be awake. "You fool…"

Very, very slowly, he opened his eyes, looking over at the empty air beside his bed. His stomach dropped out of his body- he still couldn't see her- but he knew she was there. He wanted to see her, he wanted it more than anything in that moment, but for him her voice was enough.

"Hey midget." He whispered- maybe because he didn't want to wake anyone up, maybe because he was afraid talking to loud would shatter the moment.

She didn't reply; her hand had stilled on his cheek.

He smiled, just barely. "Do you make a habit of feeling up people in their sleep?"

He could feel her on him then, arms around his neck, face when on his shoulder as she softly cried. "You idiot." She said. "You fool. You moron."

Ichigo sat up, one arm around her so that she wouldn't fall from his grasp while his other pushed them both up into a more comfortable position. He held her, very carefully, closing his eyes again so that it was like she was real. "Hey there, shrimp." He can feel her soft hair on his lips when he speaks. For some reason, it doesn't bother him like it usually would.

"You're not supposed to wake up. I- I can't. I can't stay for long and-"

"You're the one who told me to wake up."

He could feel her draw back- oh, lord, he can _feel_ the burn from her glare. "But you're not supposed to, stupid!" she whacked him lightly on the side of the head and he laughs, lightly. The lump in his throat was back; and it was starting to make it hard to swallow. "I can't stay!"

He wrapped his arms around her, then. It's not a hug, no, that would be mushy. He's just trying to stop her from leaving. That was it. "Don't go."

"Ichigo… I have to. I'm not supposed to be here!" Palms flat against his chest- she'd ready to push him off of her and go.

"Don't go." He pleas. "Don't go. Don't go."

Quietly, "I'm sorry." She presses against him with more force then, easily breaking from his grasp.

His arms go slack, and the warmth is gone.

"Rukia- Rukia, Rukia, don't-"

The window slides closed, and he's left alone.

"Don't..."

Finally, he cries.

"Don't."


End file.
